#LOVE

This huge feeling seized me and I closed my body to the outer world. As in a cocoon, I wrapped my life in this abstraction, that nevertheless seems so material, heavy, overflowing. I scrape some alibies together inside and outside of me, and hang to self-mockery like it was a parachute supposed to save me from the crash I disclose. You are in me, in my ears, beneath my eyelids; you smile on my mouth, look through my eyes, flow underneath my skin, beat in my chest; you, air in my lungs, tear on my eyelash, sweat on my neck. During the day, you guide my steps and hold my hand. At night I turn off your face in the computer, turn on the light in my room and there you are. Your arms stretch under the sheets, I dreamed so many times of your body that I can feel any detail of it under mine, I looked so much at your mouth that I can recognise its taste on my lips, and your eyes closed open in my thoughts like a blast. You are beautiful. Your beauty paralyses, stuns, wounds. Your beauty hurts. Your beauty humiliates all the rest. You are beautiful, so little and insignificant, so fragile and clumsy; and it’s so easy to ridicule you, with your need for love and your inability to love. A Pierrot with his tears trapped in his eyes. Those eyes made of a cold sunrise, that pierce the more dazzling lights, the thickest darkness. Those eyes stay in front of me, as guide and distraction, inspiration and dullness, while I reach my hand out to take my cup of coffee, while I show my ticket to the inspector on the bus, while I exchange some words with my colleagues, while I have dinner with my son, while I watch the TV. Two holes in my forehead where you are the one to enter, and from where all the rest pours out, scatters, disperses. The first time I met you, you were crouched in a corner, your hands filled with blood and glass fragments. You looked like a little girl, with your black curtain of hair, your huge eyes piercing the shadow and not a single tear on your gentle face. You were running those shards on your naked legs, and I wanted to take your hands and stop them, bring them to my face and kiss them. I recognised the humiliated child in you, I could see again the humiliated child I used to be. All the pain was still inside, so I hugged you, stroked your hair, felt a tear gliding on my neck and your cold cheek against my chest.